Clothes Make the Man Sort Of
by A. E. Stover
Summary: In the face of danger, Sawada Tsunayoshi proves himself capable of going through extremes to protect his friends. Less so when it comes to protecting himself. A lot less. [XTREME CHALLENGE FIC]


**CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN. SORT OF.  
**written by **A. E. Stover  
**this version is **not edited**

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**XTREME Challenge:** Write a story that you will continue to update each week. Submissions must have a minimum of 500 words to count. No excuses are allowed, aside from serious injury, sickness, or emergencies. Planning beyond next chapter is forbidden; freestyle mode must be employed at all times. Editing will take place at the end of the story. Story must be completed by scheduled deadline of: February 21st, 2015.

Let's begin.

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Squalo found the three idiots in a room underground. He squinted at them, trying hard not to let his temper run wild. He _liked_ having hair on his head, and he also needed his hair for his stupid dickbag boss, and stress apparently was a leading factor of hair-loss.

So instead of "shouting" as usual, Squalo settled to speak in a much more civilized manner.

"You look like a little bitch."

"_Hiiiiieee!"_

"You—! Just what are you trying to say?! Don't listen to him, juudaime! You look great!"

"Of course he does! His hair looks just _fab_ulous, if I do say so myself."

For the moment, Squalo ignored the idiot duo and settled for carefully observing the Vongola brat. The idiot looked half-decent — the dark ensemble he wore was form fitting and gave the kid a more serious look, and it looked like his paranoid nanny guardian and Lussuria had managed to tame his hair at last. He guessed what they say is true after all — clothes make the man. In his new attire, Sawada Tsunayoshi almost looked competent. If the kid managed to keep this commanding aura in his every day attire, Squalo actually wouldn't mind admitting that the brat was the current Vongola Decimo.

However…

"Why are you in a _dress_?LUSSURIA! This your idea of a fucking _joke_?"

Lussuria only sighed noisily and pressed a hand to his cheek. "But Squ-chan," he began in a chastising tone, "orders are orders."

"To hell with the orders! You dare present him as Vongola Decimo like _this?_ HE'S NOT YOU!"

Something small but sharp clacked against the back of his head, and Squalo turned a violent gaze to the newest figure that hopped into the room. A green gun shifted under bright, moving light to turn into a green lizard with blinking yellow eyes.

"It's necessary if you want a little humor."

"Reborn!"

Squalo watched the Vongola brat squealing in protest. He let the nanny guardian attend to Sawada's hyperventilating state while Lussuria fussed over Sawada's hair. This was stupid; a fucking waste of time. He could be beheading dickheads and collecting bounties right now. Instead, he was in a dinky little underground room that smelled like roses and honeydew with lace and ribbons _everywhere_ while Sawada's nanny guardian and Lussuria treated the Vongola Decimo like he was some dress-up doll. Fucking trash. _All_ of them

"Don't get impatient." Reborn seated himself on top of the boudoir and fixed his unblinking, beetle-black eyes on him. "This is still a serious matter. Stefano Balducci is a threat to numerous mafia groups, and is one of Vongola's most wanted."

Squalo narrowed his eyes. Yeah, that much he knew. Otherwise, he wouldn't have agreed to take on tonight's job.

Balducci had been Vongola's headache for years. Though a Vongola member himself, he claimed to be an independent don and organized one of the biggest crime syndicates in Europe, trafficking weapons and armory across the globe. For the most part, the mafia world ignored Balducci and penned him as an idiot — a _rich_ idiot. Squalo wished he could kick their asses for dismissing said rich idiot, because Balducci came to bite the mafia world in the ass. The shitty bastard had begun selling detailed profiles on Vongola's prominent members and allies, including the families' weaponry secrets.

The secret of manufacturing box weapons was at risk.

Up until a few months ago, Baducci had only been collecting tail-ends of formulae that proved useless without a center to focus the information around. But the recent disappearance of Verde and his assistants brought new levels of concern within the mafia world.

Squalo was ecstatic to have been sent; he would slice up the wormy traitor with great pleasure, especially given the fact that this was his first mission in a year after being forced to take a break because of a fucking heart transplant. He was just surprised Xanxus hadn't taken on the job.

"Dame-Tsuna. Stop messing up Gokudera and Lussuria's hard work."

"Ow! Stop that! It hurts!"

Then again, it was probably this little shit that prevented Xanxus from coming. But Squalo couldn't blame him. He was quickly losing his patience too.

"_VOI!_ Quit screwing around! And don't give me that pathetic look, Vongola trash!"

"Watch your mouth!"

Squalo ignored the nanny guardian's overprotective hissing and turned back to Reborn. "So? What's with this ridiculous get-up?"

Reborn flicked the brim of his fedora up and looked to Squalo again. He had an unnerving expression unfit for a nine-year-old, Squalo couldn't help but feel; though, it was because the kid wasn't really nine years old.

The Arcobaleno curse had been lifted two years ago, and Reborn had steadily aged. From what Mammon explained, Squalo knew that the ex-Arcobaleno experienced an abnormal growing process after living more than a century in their infant forms. The ex-Arcobaleno would age faster than usual in the first few years before the rate could stabilize. From what he'd seen Mammon go through in the past two years, Squalo guessed the abnormal growth process placed immense pressure on the body. Varia was forced to take Fran in as a substitute; the painful growth spurts kept Mammon immobile for days.

According to Vongola's baseball freak, Reborn was already nine years old. The expression on Reborn's face, however, belonged to a man of forty.

"Balducci won't be present at the party today," Reborn began, "but Rinaldo will. We still aren't sure how close Rinaldo is to Balducci, but he's the one man who's appeared by Balducci's side in every photo of him taken. Rinaldo's also a questionable ally for both sides; we don't know who he really bends to because he's got loyalties with Carcassa. Skull says he'll fill us in soon once he finds out how valuable he is to Carcassa. Which won't be much, I presume."

At the mention of the Carcassa famiglia, Squalo scowled fiercely. "Ex-Arcobaleno or not, like hell Vongola's gonna be working with a drug lord. Why can't CEDEF look into it?"

"Because it's easier to make Skull do it." Reborn flicked his hat again. "If you're worrying about Skull selling us out, don't. I guarantee he's trustworthy."

Squalo thought he saw a strange glint in Reborn's eyes as he spoke. He grimaced inwardly, but kept his scowl. He was going to say that it wouldn't be wise to get have Carcassa besmirch the reputation Vongola has, but the way Reborn spoke of Skull suggested that it wouldn't be wise for Squalo to speak badly of the ex-Arcobaleno in any way. All seven of those brats were close, no matter how they treated each other on the outside. They stuck together fiercely, despite their severe differences, and they remained so even now.

Squalo easily changed the subject. "So then," he began, turning on Sawada. "Why's the Vongola brat dressed like _that?"_

Said brat turned a surly look at Reborn. "Yeah. Why can't I just go in as myself?"

"You know very well why."

"Ever more the reason to be myself!"

Leon dropped into Reborn's hand and shifted into a gun. "Shall we remove you here and use your corpse, then?"

"Hiiiieee! That sounds extra threatening!"

Reborn let Leon shift back and hop into Sawada's hair. "You still get to make the decision."

"What kind of decisions are those?!" the Vongola brat whined in a shrill voice.

Squalo rubbed aggressively at his temples. Luckily for Squalo, Reborn seemed to notice how quickly his patience was thinning and turned immediately back to him.

"Because Skull's taking care of Rinaldo, we're focusing on Rinaldo's assistant, Ivan de Monti."

Upon hearing the name, Squalo exchanged a look with Lussuria. The cheery Varia had been idly combing through Sawada's hair until de Monti was brought up. Even Lussuria's sunglasses couldn't hide the look of utter contempt from his face. Squalo glanced briefly at Sawada's Storm guardian.

Gokudera Hayato either didn't recognize or hadn't heard the name. The Vongola guardian was occupied with consoling Sawada, and Squalo didn't want to bother speaking with him about it. Explaining de Monti would probably activate Gokudera Hayato into full-blown nanny mode, anyway, and the kid was annoying enough as he was already.

Finally, Squalo looked at the Vongola brat: the sixteen year old who barely grew an inch in the past two years and still stood at a little over five feet tall; the idiot with large brown eyes that still held a world of innocence; the brat whose hair, now tamed, came down past his shoulders in delicate waves; the kid who with a black dress with a padded chest that made him look like a woman — an _attractive_ woman.

Oh _hell_ no, Squalo's mind screeched as he turned to Reborn.

Reborn only cocked his eyebrow expectantly.

Squalo sharply turned around. "I need to leave. Update me when you get the safe word."

"Ah. Got it."

Squalo left the room in search of Bel. Depending on how tonight went, Squalo might consider leaving Bel in charge of taking de Monti out.

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End file.
